Robin Jenkins and Christina Clark find the dead body of Violet Hayes in their apartment. They strike an investigation of their own and enlist the help of their neighbor, Finn Dallas.
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FINN'S SOUL ALMOST LEFT HIS BODY when Christina tried to come up with a plausible plan to solve the arising mystery on the spot.
"Do we even care?" He lamented from the backseat, his window crooked open.
"Yes." Christina barely looked at him as she paced next to the car, the sound of the engine humming as time ticked by.
"Will the car hold up?" He addressed Robin, who shrugged in return.
"Yeah. Not a long-term fix, but it should hold."
"We have to ask that Maurice guy." Christina straightened. "It's the only way to find out."
"What makes you think he'll answer us?" Finn's eyes bulged and flickered to the clock. 10:46 p.m. His gut pulled at the thought he had to wake up early for work. He pondered over the thought of working from home to get two hours of extra sleep.
"He might if he's feeling particularly generous," Robin mumbled, picking up the battery again.
"Let's go." Christina was already on the move.
Finn whined before he complied, pushing himself off the seat and out into the cold wind. Work from home it is, he noted to himself, as he had come to terms with the fact that nothing Christina started would end in a matter of minutes. They had come here for a few questions with Joe, and not only was it well past curfew, but he had witnessed the most brutal fight in his entire life.
He wasn't recovering from this trip for days. Ice pack on his feet and aspirin wasn't going to cut it. He might take a few days off.
"So, we're leaving the car turned on, with the keys inside. Great." He shoved his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, fingers growing frigid from the cold. "If it gets stolen-"
"We'll deal with it then," Christina shot back.
Finn snorted. "Right."
She ignored him. She knew he was getting cranky because of the exhaustion. She was worn out too. But there had to be something there. She could feel it, humming deep within her gut.
She had already missed her opportunity to get answers from Joe, and she felt like she was hanging on a wire, in a state of limbo close to losing her grip. To let this trip go to waste would be a loss.
"Good evening, sir," Christina began, her tone lacking the softness she used to employ. She was growing impatient from all the dead ends she had reached today and the newfound questions that were shoved in her face. "We're really sorry to bother you, I was wondering if you could tell us about-"
"Didn't you fix your car yet?" His voice was low, scraping against his throat, lacking all sorts of sympathy.
"Yes, it's fine, thank you. I just have a question about the car-"
"Whatever. Thought you Fairfordians leave before it's ten," he drawled. "If you plan on staying the night, that'll be extra charge."
"No, no, we're leaving soon. I just want to know about-"
